Fagin's Story
by Red Cherries
Summary: As Fagin sits in his death cell, he thinks about his life since he was a small child, till now. Will this memory of fun, laughter, sorrow, crime, and romance comfort him in his time of loneliness, or will it leave him desolate. Dedicated to Elaine Dawkins
1. Chapter 1 Trailer

**TRAILER**

**BROKEN AMETHYST PRESENTS:**

**FAGIN'S STORY**

Magistrat - (bangs his gavel) - "Do you have anything more to say?"

Old Fagin - "I'm an old man, I'm an old man, I'm an old man."

(Old Fagin changes into young Patrick sleeping)

Jenny - "Happy birthday Patrick!"

Jeremy - "Do you have any freinds?"

Patrick - "No."

Jeremy - "Why are you so deprived?"

Patrick - (to Mathew) - "You're not my real father?!"

Mathew - "I was hoping you would never find out."

Jenny - (falling through ice) - "Patrick! Help!"

Katrina - "I'm running away."

Young Fagin - "So am I."

Young Fagin - (holding a ring to Katrina) "Katrina, I love you, will you be mine?"

Katrina - "Why didn't you tell me you were a Jew!" - (takes of the ring, and throws it on the ground, runs away)

Patrick - (desperatly) - "Don't leave me!"

Policeman - "Stop theif!"

Fagin - "What's you're name?"

Nancy - "I'm Nancy, and this is Bill."

Bill - (rolls his eyes)

Artfull Dodger - "This is him Fagin, my new freind Oliver Twist."

Monks - "We got to get the boy back again!"

Charlie - "Fagin! Bill murdered - Oh, you know.

Gentleman - "We got Fagin!"

Old Fagin - (in jail) - "I'm an old man.

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FAGIN'S STORY


	2. Chapter 2 The Death Cell

**Hello! **

**This is my first fanfic so bear with me.**

**The reason I chose to do a story about Fagin was because of these two reasons, ONE: There are not very many Fagin storys out there. TWO: I thought since I like all the charicters in "Oliver Twist" when you think about Fagin's life you have to think about all the other charicters too, if you know what I mean. **

**Well, here we go with the first chapter, and I hope you all enjoy it, and want more!**

CHAPTER 1

THE DEATH CELL

The Magistrate banged his gavel on the desk and looked at the defendant and asked, "Do you have anything more to say?"

"I'm an old man, I'm an old man."

"Very well," came the reply. "You are sentenced to the gallows to hang until dead."

Until dead, until dead, until dead.

Death

It was a dark, fearful word.

Fagin sat on the cold, stone, cell bench murmuring, "I'm an old man, I'm an old man, I'm an old man."

"Keep quite can't ya?" Snapped the guard, looking up from his paper, and taking his pipe out of his mouth. "You'll be half out of your mind before your time is up."

Fagin winced, his time was coming, the clock ticked closer and closer with each tick, closer to the time he would be taken out of this cell, and hung.

His heavy head banged against the hard, cell wall.

In twenty-four hours Fagin would be at the end of his rope.

He knew that.

What had he accomplished in his life? He had had a long life yes, but what had he accomplished? The question slipped into Fagin's head. He thought back, far, far back to when he was a mere boy of ten years old, he thought back on how innocent his life had been…………………….

**Here we will stop and look back into Fagin's past starting at the point when he turned ten years old. **

**I know it was short, but it's kind of an introduction.**

**Well I hope you all enjoyed it! **


	3. Chapter 3 10th Birthday

**Hello everybody!**

**I want to say "Thank you" to Elaine Dawkins, Charlene Bates and IlseAverilHaysworth for your wonderful, encureging reviews!**

**O.K. just so you all don't get confused Patrick and Fagin are the same guy.**

**Alrighty on with the show!**

CHAPTER 2

TENth BIRTHDAY

..."Happy birthday Patrick!" A soft voice said close to the boys ear. "Did you have sweet dreams?"

The curly redhead lifted his head lazily and rubbed sleep out of his eyes. "Course I did mother, just five more minutes of sleep? Pleeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaase?!"

Jenny Fall laughed at her don's mournful question. "Course not, your father needs your help in the barn, and besides you don't want to miss your special birthday breakfast, do you? It is your birthday today, remember? Your turning ten today!"

"Exactly, don't you see," Patrick began to reason with his mother. "If today is my birthday why can't I get five extra minutes of sleep, I'm sure it wouldn't hurt me, and besides I'm awful tired." He said the last part with an enormous yawn.

"Oh come on," said his mother, playfully hitting his shoulder. "You know what the Proverbs say don't you? She then began to recite Proverbs 6:9-11 _'How long will you lie there, you sluggard? When will you get up from your sleep? A little sleep, a lttle slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest - and poverty will come on you like a bandit and scarcity like an armed man.'_"

"Well I highly doubt THAT would happen." And with that Patrick stretched before before snuggling back down into the warm covers.

"Young man," Jenny laughed. "If I let you sleep five more minutes, that five minutes would turn into ten, and the ten, would turn into thiry, and that thirty would turn into an hour, and before know it you will have slept the whole day! So you had better get up NOW before I get you're father up here with a bucket of cold water!"

At that Patrick jumped out of bed and frantically started searching for some shirt and trousers.

------

When Patrick came down from his bedroom, he saw that the breakfast table was nicely spread with wonderjul smelling food. His mouth began to water, and he sank down into a chair and just stared at the meal, and licked his lips.

"How's our ten year old boy today?" A booming voice asked. Patrick looked up as he felt a clap on his shoulder into the sparkling blue eyes of his father.

"Very well father." He answered. "And you?"

"The same."

"Our we ready to tend to the stock?" Patrick questioned.

"Well actually I think the question should be, 'our we ready to _eat_'. You see I have already done all the chores and I'm pretty hungry." Mathew Fall smiled down at his son.

"Thank you sir!" Patrick beamed, jumping up and running to the table.

Breakast tasted wonderful, and the day rolled smoothly by. When evening came his father presented him with his father presented him with his birthday gift, a pair of shiny, black boots.

"Oh!" Patrick breathed in excitement. "Thank you very much, I love them."

Mathew laughed, "Try them on, see if they fit."

------

Later that evening after dinner, Patrick smiled at his parents who were laughing heartily over a joke, wiggled his toes in his boots, filled his mouth with the deliciouse honey cake his mother had made as a desert, and thought that life would always be as happy and as enjoyable as this, but, little did he know...

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**Well there is chapter two.**

**This is kind of showing how Fagin/Patrick lived, not very interasting, but, I hope they will get better.**

**Hope you all enjoyed it!**

**CheeroD**


	4. Chapter 4 Qustions

**Hello!**

**Thank you, Thank you, first to my new reviewer, Sir-Not-Appearing-In-This-Show, and secondly to, my sister, IlseAverilHaynsworth, and Elaine Dawkins and Charlene Bates for all of you all's wonderful reviews, thank each one of ya'll so, so, much, you all encourage me greatly)**

**Well on with chapter three, hope you all like it, it's not as long as my last one, but, I'm pretty much pleased with it ;)**

CHAPTER 3

QUESTIONS

Patrick was a single child in his family. They lived about one hundred miles out side of London, on a small farm, in a sweet, little cottage.

Patrick rarely went outside his home, he was taught his lessons at home instead of the school house, and his family did not go to the church, they had what they called the "Sabbath" at home too.

Patrick had gone with his father to town to go to the market to trade a couple of times. He could remember the first time he had gone to town, and there he saw children his age laughing and playing together, and having a marvelous time playing a game called "King of the Hill", a game where all the children would charge up a pile of dirt, pushing and shoving each other, until one person stood at the top of the pile shouting that he was the "King of the hill" then the game would start over again. Patrick had never had a friend before, and, after he saw all the other children, he often thought what it would be like to have a friend, another child his age to play with.

He had also noticed a taller building in the center of town, with a bell on top. He had asked his father what it was. Mathew had then glanced up at the building then looked back down at Patrick and had said, "That is a church where people go and have their Sabbath together, also it is a school for children for children to go too, and have their lessons." Patrick had then asked why they didn't go to church with everybody else, and why he couldn't go to school with the other children too. His father had looked at him for a few moments before quickly looking away and admiring some healthy looking chickens, and murmuring about the price for them.

Patrick had also noticed that his father only bought and traded with Mr. Jacobs, a man who owned a shop that sold all different sorts of things. He was friendly enough, but he seemed more kinder with his other costumers.

As soon as they had finished whatever they came to do, they quickly left.

Patrick had lots of questions about why they didn't do things like other people did, but both his parents never seemed to want to talk about it, so he kept quiet about it. But he couldn't stop the questions that kept popping into his head, why were they so different? Why, why, why?

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**Hope you enjoyed it! The next chapter should be getting more interesting.**

**CheeroD**


	5. Chapter 5 A Freind, Maybe

**Hello!**

**THANK YOU:**

**Elaine Dawkins, for her advice, and reviews. You are such a great reviewer! (And you are a great writer, and your story is really great too!)**

**Charlene Bates, for her encouraging and hilarious reviews! You always make me laugh. You live up to your name Charlene Bates/Charlie Bates! Yes I'm sure that Patrick would love to have you as his friend)**

**IlseAverilHaynsworth, my own sister, who never fails to leave a wonderful and encouraging review! Thank you so much for your advice! You are such a sweet sister) And about Patrick's name not being Jewish, well... you'll just have to keep reading to find out why! **

**O.K. on with chapter four! This is a lot more interesting than the last chapter. Hope you all enjoy it ;)**

CHAPTER 4

A FRIEND, MAYBE

A couple days after his birthday, Patrick was down at the little pond half a mile from his family's farm, trying to catch some fish.

He was having quite a lot of fun, wiggling his toes in the squishy mud then, prancing around and acting as if he were an elephant or horse or cow or even chicken! He finally settled down and decided to do some fishing and see if they would bite. He talked to himself, hummed to himself, then impatiently pulled his rod up to see if he had caught anything, although he hadn't felt a yank on his poll! He did this a couple more times when he thought he felt someone's eye's on him, he spun around, his eyes darting this way and that, next he thought he heard a stifled giggle, he heart was beating rapidly. He jumped up and began running hellter-scelter through the woods.

"Wait!" He heard a voice behind him say, "Please wait!" He slowed to a stop, and turned around and found himself looking straight into the shining brown eyes of another boy. Patrick stood shocked, his mouth and eyes like big O's. Never before had he been alone with another boy he didn't know what to do.

"Well now," the strange boy said. "What you staren at? Act like you never seen another boy before!"

"Oh! I'm sorry sir." Patrick exclaimed closing his mouth.

"Sir, you call me?" The strange boy asked. "Hmmm... You're mother must teach you good manners."

"Yes, she does. Sorry, I didn't mean to call you sir. I...I didn't mean...forgot...I..I just... I forgot you were a boy my age." Patrick looked down at his grimy, bare feet, suddenly feeling very hot, sweaty and uncomfortable.

"S'right. You mind if I play with you a while?"

"Course." Patrick said, softly, leading the way back to the muddy pond. "I'm just fishing."

"Oh, well, there's more we can do besides fishing, can you swim?"

"Yes." Patrick answered. "My father taught me."

"Alright, after some fishing lets go for a swim. That's why I came here in the first place." He laughed. "Alright with you?"

"Fine."

"Good."

As the boys sat down on the bank and applied worms to their fishing hooks, (the boy had brought his own fishing pole,) Patrick became more at ease with this new boy. Maybe this boy would be the friend he had been waiting for. Then again maybe not. He decided not to get his hopes up.

"By the way," the boy said, shaking Patrick out of his thoughts. "My name's Jeremy. Jeremy Davis."

"Pleased to meet you Jeremy. And my names Patrick Fall."

They shook hands.

"You have any brothers or sisters?" Jeremy asked.

"No. Just me and my parents." Patrick answered.

"Single child then?"

Patrick nodded.

"Ah. Well I've got twin sisters about three years old. Oh! I'm eleven, how old are you?"

"Ten. I had my birthday two days ago."

"Really. Do you have any friends?."

"No."

"Not one?!"

"No."

"Any neighbors?"

"No."

"Have you ever talked with another child before?!!"

"No."

"Never?!!!"

"Never."

"Ever seen a boy before?!!"

"Yes. Lots of times in the market."

"Well now, that explains why you were so shocked when you met me!"

"Yeah,"

"Where do you go to school and church at?"

"I do both at home."

"Both at home, says you! Well I never!" Jeremy exclaimed.

Patrick blushed.

"Why are you so deprived." Jeremy asked.

"I d'know. Whenever I tried to ask to ask my parents questions like: "Why can't I go to school with the other children" or, "Why can't we have are Sabbath with the other people at church" or..."

"Sabbath, you say?" Jeremy interrupted. "That's what the Jews call their Sunday meetings, the Sabbath. Are you a Jew?"

"Oh no, I'm not a Jew, I've never heard of them before."

"What Religion are you then?"

"I d'know."

"Then how do you know that your not a Jew?" Jeremy questioned again.

"Because if I was, my parents would have told me!" Patrick said exasperated.

"Guss you're right. But you had better make sure with your parents that your not a Jew because I'm not allowed to mess with Jew." Jeremy said in a commanding voice. "Where do you live?" His voice softened some.

" 'Bout half a mile from here, I..."

"Oh look!" Jeremy exclamed. "You caught something!"

Patrick pulled up his pole, but it was only a small fish, so, he thew it back.

"Alright." Jeremy said, after a bit. "I'm tired of fishing, lets go for a swim." He stood up, and stripped down to his trousers, and dove in. Patrick flowed his example, and soon they were having a marvelous time splashing and dunking each other. _"This is what it must feel like to have a friend." _Patrick thought, swelling up with happiness.

------

Later that evening, Patrick and Jeremy parted promising to meet each other same place next day.

As Patrick trudged home, he thought about what Jermy had said about Jews. What if his parents said they were Jews, would he lose Jermy? Maybe he should just say that they wern't Jews and be on the safe side. But that would be telling a lie, and Patrick had been taught to always tell the truth no matter what. He would ask, but he was quite certen that they were not Jews.

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**Well there it is. Hope everyone enjoyed it!**

**Cheero D**


	6. Chapter 6 Am I A Jew?

**Hello!**

**THANK YOU:**

**CHARLENE BATES: I am glad that you LOVE the name Jeremy, I thought it was pretty cute myself! And Patrick really appreciates you simpathising with him) Thank you for your reviews!**

**ELAINE DAWKINS: I am so sorry that the names I am picking out remind you of annoying people! I will try to do better next time. (Although I did think that it was pretty funny) And yes, I can't wait till Fagin gets older to because I know exactly how I want everything to work out, the first parts when he is younger our terribly hard to write! Thank you for your reviews! **

**ILSEAVERILHAYNSWORTH: Yes I know that Patrick is really not an English name, please forgive me for overlooking( I am glad though that you like the name Jeremy, I know that you are an expert on names, and think that the names that I like are kind of strange! Thank you for your reviews!**

**O.K. on with chapter five ;)**

AM I A JEW?

When Patrick arrived home that evening, his mother promptly sent him up to his room to change his wet clothes.

Patrick entered his room, shut the door, and began rummaging in his dresser, all the time thinking on how he was going to ask his parents 'the question'. He slowly pulled off his damp trousers, and pulled on a new, clean pair and a shirt. Deep in thought, he sat down on his bed. When he thought he was ready enough, he went back down stairs to supper.

"Well, you sure took your time!" Jenny exclaimed as Patrick reentered the kitchen.

"Sorry," he apologized, and scooted into his seat. He felt very nervous, and was getting butterflys' in his stomach, and his hands were cold and sweaty. _"It's just a little question, nothing to get all scared about."_ a little voice inside him said, while another voice reminded him, _"If they say 'no' you will have nothing to worry about. But, if they say 'yes' well then, you will lose your chance of getting a friend, and it may be your only chance..."_ A door slam and his fathers heavy footsteps broke him out of his thoughts.

From the sound of all the racket, Patrick could tell his father was no in a good mood.

Mathew banged his way into the kitchen, and sat down heavily on his chair.

"Something wrong dear?" Jenny asked her husband, while bringing some steaming chicken soup to the table.

"Somethings wrong alright," Mathew said, gruffly. "Our best milking cow, Daisy, has got some infection and it's spread to her liver, and I don't expect her to live through the night. I don't know how long it will be until we can scrap up enough money to get a new one." He sighed, then looked aggravated again and turned his attention to Patrick and said angrily, "Patrick, I never saw you this afternoon, where were you?"

Patrick gasped, he had forgot! Mathew had strictly told him to meat him in the gores stable that afternoon to help him clean it out. After all the excitement and fun of meeting Jeremy, he must have forgot! "I forgot..."

"Forgot," his father interruped him. "I've heard that excuse, more than I care to remember, and if I ever catch you skipping your duty's again, I'll..."

"Mathew," Jenny broke in, "Let's just settle down, Patrick didn't mean any harm for heavens sake. Eat your supper, your tired."

Mathew and Jenny then began to get into a heated argument.

Patrick began to wonder if he should ask the question later, but he needed to know before tomorrow. He was about to ask when he was struck with another question. Should he ask his mother or father? He didn't like messing with his father when he was in terrible moods like tonight, but it would seem strange to ask his mother though. Should he ask both? No, he would just ask his father, he needed an answer!

His parents were still arguing, and didn't look like they were plaining to stop anytime soon, so, he decided to interuped.

"Father," he began, timidly. "Um...our we...what reli...I mean..um..our we Jews?" Patrick held his breath, waiting for the fatal word.

A sudden silence fell over the room. Patrick looked at his father, for what seemed like eternity, before Mathew finally opened his mouth to speak. "How did such a silly question get into your mind?"

Patrick was planning to tell them all about Jeremy, when a thought came to him, that since his parents never had let him go to school, or church, or to just the town to play with the other children, they might not let him play with Jeremy, so he just told him that he was wondering.

There was a long pause, then Jenny spoke up, "Patrick, what has your father told you about interrupting your parents?"

"But mother..." Patrick began.

"Patrick!" his father said sharply, "not another word."

"Yes sir." Patrick whispered, and looked down at his plate.

------

The next afternoon Patrick met Jeremy in the same place as last time.

"Hey Jeremy!" He panted. "I asked...I asked... my parents... they said..."

"Why don't you catch your breath first, then I just might be able to understand you better!" Jeremy laughed.

Once Patrick was able to talk, he said; "I asked my parents if we were Jews, and my father told me that that was a silly question, then Mother scolded me for interrupting them. So I don't really think we are Jews. What do you think?"

"The same."

"Thank goodness!" Patrick breathed joyfully.

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**Hope you all enjoyed it!**

**Cheero D**


	7. Chapter 7 Secrets Reveled

**Hello!**

**Please except my apology for not posting a new chapter by now! It was all my fault. I kept putting it off, and putting it off!**

**I'd like to thank my two new reviewers: **

**LillieBillie90210 & Protego Totalum**

**And my other three devoted reviewers: **

**Elaine Dawkins, Charlene Bates and Ilse Averil Haynsworth**

**Thank you all so much. All of you are very encouraging!**

**And on with chapter seven!**

**------**

CHAPTER 7

SECRETS REVEALED

It was now winter and the muddy pond was frozen over.

Patrick, (now thirteen) and Jenny were ice skating like they did every year, and, Mathew had some business to do in town.

"Hey mother!" Patrick yelled. "Watch what I can do!" he jumped in the air did a spin, and landed on his feet.

"Hurray!" Jenny clapped her hands.

"You try it." Patrick urged.

"Oh Patrick, no." Jenny laughed.

"Go on!"

"Alright! Alright!" she jumped in the air did half a spin and landed on her seet. "Ow!" she cried.

Patrick doubled over with laughter, and almost lost his balance.

"Patrick Fall! Come over here and give me a hand up!" Jenny moaned.

Patrick skated over to her and took her hands in his and pulled her up.

Just as he got her up, she grabbed his hand, and swung him around really fast and, then let go. He spun around and around, tripping over his skates he fell flat on his back. "Hey!" he yelled once he had caught his breath. "That's not fair!"

This time Jenny was laughing as she skated to him.

"Patrick," she said sitting down on the ice beside him. "For some time now I've been meaning to ask you this question."

Patrick lifted his head, his eyes locked with his mother's, before he quickly looked away.

"Remember that night several years ago when you asked your father if we were Jews?"

He slowely nodded his head.

"What made you ask that question?"

"I'd rather not say." He said, barley above a whisper.

"Patrick," Jenny protested. "I'm your mother, I love you, you are my only child, and I want to know what is going on in your life." She stopped and looked into his eyes, but they still had the stubborn look. "Patrick please. It's not like I'm going to get your father to punish you if you tell me, or something. I could help you out. Besides I guess maybe I should tell you the truth." Patrick could hardly make out the last part she said.

"Tell me the truth about what?" Now he was getting interested.

"First, just tell me why you asked that question." She said.

"Well," he drew in a breath and began. "A couple days after my ten'th birthday, a met this boy, his name is Jeremy, and anyway, we met right here actually and we had a really good time playing together. Somehow we got to talking about religion, and he asked me if I was a Jew. When I told him I didn't know, he said that I needed to find out, because, if I was he couldn't be around me because he wasn't aloud to be around Jews. So then that was the reason I asked father." All this time Jenny had quietly been listening, and now felt a heavy weight at her heart. Her dear little boy. Her dear little Patrick. What had she done to him? She had never told him about his real life, and, worst of all, she had deprived him to the point that he had known no one save for her and Mathew. Tears burned in the back of her eyes.

Patrick turned and looked at his mother, just as the first few tears streaked down her face. Patrick began to feel uncomfortable. He always did whenever one of his parents got teary eyed. "I'm sorry," Jenny said, hastily brushing away her tears. "I guss it's my turn to tell my story. Actually the story I should have told you ever since you were old enough to understand things." She sighed, drawing in a painfull breath. "My real name is actually Rachel. I lived in a Jeweish village in America. My family was having a very hard time, money wise, and so were most of the people in the village. One day this man by the name of Sasha came by the village looking for a place to loge for a couple weeks. He was just passing through on his way to London to find a job. He ended up staying with us. Me and Sasha became very close friends, and, little by little, I fell in love with him. When it was time for him to leave I begged him to take me with him. He had fallen in love with me too, but thought that I was too young to marry. (I was fifteen at the time.) But he finally agreed to take me, seeing how I was another mouth for my father to feed. So we married, and I joined him on his journey to London. I soon became pregnant," at this Patrick's head snapped up. Pregnant? Did he have another sibling out there somewhere?! But Jenny calmly went on. "The journey was horrible, especially the boat ride across the Atlantic. Finally we arrived in England, and we rested up for a week at an inn by the seaside. After that we continued to London. We stopped in this same village that we live by right now, at another inn. There I had my baby - my first baby, and I named him..." all of a sudden she stopped. There was a loud cracking sound, and all of a sudden Jenny was screaming and falling through the ice. "Patrick! HELP!"

Patrick hand shot out and grasped hers, throwing him self down on the ice, he pulled with all his might, inch by inch she came up, her red hair plastered to her face, she franticly kicked her legs which were waded down by her skates, in the icy water, gasping for breath. Finally she got one of her knees up on the ice, and, with Patrick's help heaved herself up. She was shivering madly, and soaking wet. The water had gone all the way up to her neck. They both lay there for a moment trying to catch there breath. Then Patrick slowly got to his feet, helping Jenny up with him. She fell back in his arms and passed out. They dead weight was more than Patrick could handle, but somehow, he managed to get her off the ice. He then laid her down on the ground, taking off his scarf, coat, sweater and hat, he wrapped her in them to keep her warm. Then he kicked off his skates not even bothering to put on his shoes, he ran in his sock feet back to the barn, but his shoulders begane to sag before he even got there. He could already tell that his father had taken all the horses. How in the world was he going to get his dear mother into the house before she froze to death. He began running back full speed across the field, when all of a sudden he heard horses hoofs. Glancing up he saw his father and the team riding into the drive. "Thank you God." He breathed, as he ran to the wagon.

"Father!" He yelled.

Mathew glanced over at him casually before looking back at the team. Wait, something wasn't right. He looked at Patrick again. What in the world was he doing just in trousers, shirt and socks? Something must be terrible wrong. Mathew jumped out of the wagon, running towareds Patrick.

"It's mother!" Patrick gasped. "She fell through the ice. I got her on the land..." But before he could finish Mathew had passed him, and was now heading for the pond full speed himself.

When Mathew reached it he spotted Jenny in a bundle of clothes. He stooped down next to her and gently lifted her in his arms. Slowly they all made there way back to the house.

Once inside Mathew brought Jenny to there bedroom and began stripping off her layers and layers of her's and Patrick's wet, outer clothing. When he finally reached her dress he found that too was soaking wet. Every where he touched her was like freezing, cold ice. "Patrick," he called softly. "Get a warm bath ready for your mother."

------

Later that evening Patrick was drinking some scalding hot tea. When he saw his father silently slip out the door. _"Probably going to_ _unhitch the team."_ He thought.

He waited a couple of minutes to make sure his father was not coming back in, and then slipped upstairs to their bedroom. He knew his father would not be happy if he disturbed his mothers sleep. Creeping into the bedroom, he stood in horror at the sight that met his gaze. It was his mother lying flat on her back in bed, in a white nightgown, her face almost as white as her gown, her lips pale, her eyes closed and her long, beautiful, red hair splayed across her pillow. She looked like death. In fact Patrick thought she was dead, but drawing closer he saw her chest moving up and down as she breathed. Tears filled his eyes and began to spill down his cheeks.

"Dear God." He prayed. "Please, please let her live." He could barely see her face the tears flowed so fast. "If it be Your will, let her live. Don't let her die!"

Just then Jenny's eye's opened, and a faint smile began to show on her ghastly white face. "Patrick." She whispered. "You saved my life!"

Patrick nodded, then was struck with a question. "Mother, who - what did you name your first baby? Please answer me."

"F-f-fagin." She breathed

There eyes locked together before her eyes closed. And this time they never opened again.

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**Hope you all enjoyed it!**

**Cheero;D**


	8. Chapter 8 Agony

**Hello!**

**I'd like to thank all my reviewers: **

**LillieBillie90210 **

**Protego Totalum**

**Elaine Dawkins **

**Charlene Bates **

**Ilse Averil Haynsworth**

**Thank you all so much. All of you are very encouraging!**

**And on with chapter eight!**

**------**

CHAPTER 8

AGONY

It was very hard to continue on with life after Jenny had died. In fact it seemed almost impossible. It all had happened so quickly. One minute she was there the next she was gone. Patrick had cried himself to sleep about every night since the one when she had died. They had buried her next to the muddy pond. Mathew had made a nice looking head stone for the grave. This had been Patrick's first exprerience of death. He had been told about it. He read about it. He thought he understood it. But now he realized that he didn't know anything about it. He didn't understand it at all, until his mother had died, and even then it was to deep for him to grasp the meaning of.

It had been two weeks since that terrible day. Two of the most depressing weeks of Patrick's life. Patrick had decided to take a walk by himself down to his mother's grave. He had not been down there since her burial. When he got there he slowly approached the grave, half fearful that he would hear her banging at the coffin, shouting that she was not dead. He sat down in the snow looking at the grave the whole time, waiting for the tears to come streaming down his face again. But they didn't. All of a sudden that strange feeling as if someone's eyes were watching him creeped upon him. Slowly he turned, expecting to see his father, but instead to his surprise he saw Jeremy. He nodded slowly and turned his attention back to the grave.

Jeremy shuffled up next to him. "I heard 'bout your mother." He said, quietly. "I'm real sorry." Again Patrick nodded. Suddenly Jeremy seemed very impatient to say something. He plopped down next to Patrick, looking him in the eye and said; "Patrick I want you to listen to me, and listen to me good. Ever since I met you I knew you were different, I just couldn't put my finger on what it was. Now I know everything. Everything about you, maybe some stuff that you don't even know about yourself."

Patrick's head shot up. "What do you mean?"

"What I mean," Jeremy said very punctual. "Is that, when you were ice scatting with your mother, I came by to see if you were out, and when I saw her, I hid in the rushes, so that she would not see me. That's when she was telling you about her life. Now I know that you _are_ a Jew." Jeremy spat the word out with disgust, stabbing another wound in Patrick's battered heart.

"Only _part _Jew." Patrick argued. "My mother was, but my father isn't."

"Oh, no, no, no!" Jeremy scoffed. "I thought I might know a little more than you. What about that baby, the one your mother said she had?"

"You _think_ that baby was me?" Patrick asked.

"I _know_ that baby was you." He said, matter-of-factly.

"No you don't. His name was Fagin. Mother told me so before she died." Patrick said, his voice rising.

"Have you ever heard of name changing?!" Jeremy exclaimed. "I told my father everything that I heard your mother tell you. He knows your whole family's history. In fact, everyone in town does. You know, I just can't believe... cor, if I knew... I just... "

"What_ do_ you know." Patrick cut in.

Jeremy brought his hand across his forehead. "Alright I guess I'll pick up where your mother left off: Jenny had they baby and named him Fagin. Your fathe- Sasha had run out of money at the time, and thought he would try to find some sort of work here. They would not let him because he was a Jew. Sasha tried to get on their good side. He changed all of you all's names, your mother's name which was Rachel, to Jenny and his name to Robert, and... Oh... yes... he changed little Fagin's name too... I bet you can't guess... Patrick...ha... how bought that!" He laughed, laughed! Patrick couldn't believe it. He had always thought of Jeremy as a nice considerate boy, but now! Oh! Patrick wished to hit him full in the face. He was so upset, he was unable to speak. But Jeremy calmed himself again and continued.

"But the towns people wouldn't let him have it. They gave him, did you hear that, generously _gave_ him this piece of land and that little house of yours for _free! _Later your father came back to town and stole some food. But unfortunately for you though, he was caught. When he was brought to court him made this long story about how you all were starving for food, and that he did not get his crops planted in time... and on and on and on and on! In the end he was hung. And rightly so. But one of the policeman there, uhhh a Mr. Mathew Fall... stood up for your mother, so he was kicked out of town. And so what do you know... he married your mother and made her promise never to let you now the truth and you all lived happily ever after with you blind to the truth, until now. And so it all comes tragically crashing upon you, and it is all your parents fault. So my friend, I am here to tell you that I know the truth and have revealed it to you, and it is up to you if you want to believe it or not. I am now going to leave you. I am no longer your friend." And he left. He left just like that, without saying another word.

Again the tears came to Patrick's eyes running down his face, and he fell on his mother's grave, sobbing for her soul.

------

When Patrick entered the house he half expected to see his mother in the kitchen making supper. But instead it was his father.

"Where've you been?" Mathew asked.

Patrick shrugged, and Mathew didn't bother him any further. He just set the corn mush on the table and motioned Patrick to sit down. When he had obeyed, Mathew said a short prayer, and begane to eat. But Patrick couldn't eat. He was so disgusted with Jeremy, his father, and life for that matter.

"Something bothering you, son?" Mathew quietly asked.

Patrick didn't know what to say at first, should he tell him what he knew? He silently debated this question for some time, before he just couldn't handle it any longer, it just all came out.

"Why couldn't you have told me the truth, instead of hiding it from me like you did?!" He exploded.

Mathew looked confused. "What truth?"

"What truth? What truth?! The truth about my whole life before you came along." Patrick then began to pour out the whole story of what Jenny had told him and about Jeremy and what he had told him too, and how both of them had left him. When he finally finished ranting and raving flopped back into his chair exhausted.

Mathew was quiet for a few minutes before he finally spoke. "I was hoping you would never find out." It was barely a whisper.

"You're not my real father?!"

Mathew shook his head.

Patrick looked down at his plate of food. What was going on in his life. What was God doing to him. Was He angry with him for something he had done? Now he felt upset with God too. Everything had all of a sudden taken a turn for the worst.

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Lying in bed that night Patrick decided on what to do. He would run away. Finish that trip to London that his real father and mother had started so long ago. Be his own person. With that thought in mind he begane to pack.

He pulled a small quilt that his Jenny had made him, out of his closet and set all his money in it, (which wasn't much, maybe a couple of pounds or so.) One pair of pants and shirt an extra pair of shoes and socks, a handkerchief and a couple of hair pins to remember his mother by. Once packed he scribbled a note to his father, and snuck down to the kitchen. He placed the note on the table, and packed a loaf of bread, a few apples and some vegetables. Then he took one last look around the house he had know since he could remember. Slowly he pulled open the front door and stole out into the night.

As the sun rose rosie over the hills, Patrick breathed in the fresh air. He felt refreshed and new. He felt like a different person. He was a different person. He was Fagin.

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**Hope you all enjoyed it.**

**Cheero;)**


	9. Chapter 9 The Run Away

**Hello! I'm back again! Sorry this has taken me so very long to do!**

**I'd like to thank all my reviewers: **

**LillieBillie90210 **

**Protego Totalum**

**Elaine Dawkins **

**Charlene Bates **

**Ilse Averil Haynsworth**

**Thank you all so much. All of you are very encouraging!**

**And on with chapter nine!**

**------**

CHAPTER 9

THE RUN AWAY

His heart pounded in his chest, his legs begged him to stop and rest, but he would not give in, not till he had gotten far away, yes very far away. He wanted to lose himself, he wanted to be somewhere he new nothing about. _Give me a chance to live my life how I want. Give me a chance to forget about my past and leave it behind me. I want no more of it, I want no more, no more, no more, no more._

What was this place? Where....where....where. _I'm lost, find yourself, here I am. Who am I? Fagin. You are a new person....don't forget that, don't forget who you are, don't ever forget again, understand? Good._

Blinding sunlight hit his eyes, oh the pain. Little by little he lifted his face off the ground and squinted out the landscape around him. A tree. Another tree. More trees. And there he was, Fagin at the age of thirteen, lying amongst the trees in a little clearing sprawled facedown on the earth, his bundle of things a couple feet away. Lying just as he had when he had collapsed for want of breath. He had fallen to sleep, a very peaceful sleep. The earth held him up, careful not to let this young boy fall to his death. Nature seemed to cry out for him to be spared as it looked down on his limp form. His head came crashing to the earth again. He felt himself as in a dream, as in a form of a small child wanting his mother to hold him. _Where is she? I want her to hold me. Please come to me. She is in the past. Forget her. Remember? _

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He trudged along a dirt road that was foreign to him. He sat down to take thought to his situation. _London? For real? How would you live? How could you prosper? What would London have in store for a young thirteen year old boy? Nothing, there is nothing for you in London. But where would you go if not London? London. You're on you're own now, you rum old boy. I'm hungry. I'm thirsty. My throat is dry. It feels like it will crack up and blow away. Shut up. Think about your situation. I want my MOTHER! What did I say about that? She's in the pa... don't say it please don't! Leave me in peace!_

Woof! Woof! The creature which uttered these noises came bounding into sight. "Back! Back I say! Get away from me! I don't want you!" But the dog didn't go away. The poor dog was dreadfully thin, it's golden hair was matted, and it had several cuts here and there, but over all a very happy dog, which was quiet amazing for it's sorry condition. Fagin began to relax as he saw the dog was really not harmful. He reached out his hand and the dog bounded gladly to it. He scratched it's head, then behind it's ear, then down it's back and all the way down it's long, golden tail. He was beginning to enjoy the company very much, when suddenly a man's gruff voice could be heard yelling: "Snap! Come're boy! Snap! Ya here me callin' ye, ye young scamy wag!" The dog's tail drooped, and then a soft mournful whine could be heard. A figure appeared around the bend in the road. An man average size, but stockily built with bushy salt and pepper hair and farm clothes with a pair of old working boots could be seen clearly. "Ya here me call, boy?" The dog quickly sauntered over to the man with it's head and tail drooping. The burly man gave ready to kick, but upon seeing a small figure out of the corner of his eye hastily put his leg back down. Looking over, the man became quiet angry to realize that it was just a young boy from who he was trying to cover up his rough actions from.

"What you lookin' at?" The man demanded.

"Nothing sir." Fagin answered honestly. "A very sweet dog you have! I asume he's yours?"

"At's right. Sounds like you've got quite a bit of a hoarse throat there, boy. What be ye name?"

"Fagin. That's right sir, I'm very thirsty, been running a lot."

"Runnin' away eh?"

Fagin felt the color rush to his cheeks. He hung his head. "Yes sir." His voice was small. "How did you know?"

"Ha! I've known many a young lads in my time know how they think!" The man laughed grufly. "Wacha' runnin away from?"

"My father, well he's not my real father but.....I lost my mother, I don't want to live there anymore." Fagin felt the 'oh so familier lump' rise in his throat.

"Well ya lookin' for a job youngin'?" The man asked, what Fagin thought, an interesting question. He hadn't thought of that!

"Do you know of any place that would take me?" He bounded on the question.

"I need a boy to help me on the farm, seein' as how I ain't got no boy's ovin' me own. You know somethin' of farm work?" He questioned.

"Oh yes sir! I lived on a farm. Will you take me sir?" He was breathless.

"Of course I'll take ya in boy, just as long as you need a roof over ye head. Just call me Mr. Hicks, and you can sleep in the barn loft, and ya get a little pay every week and some food to go with it. Can't get any better than that eh? Do we have a deal?" He smiled holding out his hand.

A barn loft? Well it was better than nothing, just think of the food and pay! "You got a deal Mr. Hicks." Hands shook and a deal was on.

A new home already sooner than young Fagin had expected.


End file.
